paul smut pls pls pls!!!
pairings: paul lahote x jaguar shifter fem!reader
summary: it's been one week since paul lahote imprinted on you, and tensions are rising between the two of you. the thread breaks completely at the boundary lines and you both finally give in.
warnings: nsfw, enemies to lovers, public sex (?) (it's deep in the forest), biting, hair tugging, clothes ripped off, scratching, possessiveness, not proof read
a/n: okay this is way longer than I expected but the idea was in my head for too long for it to be short im so sorry y'all :/
It’s been one week, one week since being plagued with the nightmare that didn’t vanish in sleep of that silver wolf locking eyes with yours and having the whole world reshifted to just the two of you. The restless energy demanded an outlet the moment a ray hit your face in the early morning, you wasted no time dawning the proper clothes and shoes to go for a run in the cool damp forest.
The cold air hit like a sharp distraction smelling of dew and decaying leaves. You started off slow, breath puffing small clouds but quickly picked up the pace. You weren’t running toward anything, it was to burn something off, the lingering irritation from last week. Paul Lahaote. Aggravating, stubborn, annoying, and tempting. This entire stupid, claustrophobic feeling of the imprint. Every push of your feet was harder and harder, the trees blurring into a green-brown streak, a clean sweat beginning to beam on your neck. There was no direction in mind, just instinct in your legs following the paths that outran the thoughts chasing you.
Feet moving on autopilot, the slopping trail you were going down was filled with the sound of rushing water. The air grew cooler, damper and familiar. The familiarity forced you to a sudden skidding stop, dirt thrashing beneath your feet. You were at the creek. The exact spot where the water rushed over as quickly as the look of horror Paul’s face turned during the argument. The one where you two finally locked eyes and everything clicked with infuriating focus.
A twig snapped in the trees on the other side of the water.
There was no need to look up who it was. The pull was instant, a magnetic tug deep in your stomach answering a call you hadn’t made. Heat filled the air like a warm blanket that you knew you should take off but definitely wouldn’t. Paul stood at the tree line, not advancing, not phasing back, just watching…guarding.
You didn’t acknowledge him, speak, or even look at him. You couldn’t, the distance between you two was nothing yet everything all at the same time. Pulsing like the churning water that narrowed into an uncrossable stream that was only a few feet away. Instead you just stood there staring at the water as though you could burn a hole through it, a thick stare for the morning mist.
“What Paul?” The words hung in the damp air, A challenge, an invitation, a demand, another for him to break the silent vigil and say something. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of splashes against wet stones. Then came the soft, heavy sounds of paws on wet earth. Rustling from the other side of the creek came Paul, shirtless with only a pair of dark athletic shorts that must have been stashed behind a tree. His chest and arms gleamed too well in the morning light, his hair dark and messy. You finally took a deep breath, this moment felt safe and you hated it.
His dark eyes were fixed on you, taking in your state. A slow, familiar smirk tugged at his lips, "I thought kittens didn’t like the water?” You rolled your eyes immediately. You hated the way his words felt more like a tease than an insult in this moment. Even with a voice rough and low there was a dangerous warmth that spread though your chest.
Still you couldn’t turn to him fully, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the slight heat that creeped up your neck. Words left your mouth before you could really think of them but a slow provocative smile curved your lips. “I’m not scared to get wet, puppy.” Your voice was a lazy drawl.
The silence from the other side of the creek was loud as the rushing water seemed to be stronger than ever. You could practically feel the shockwave that hit him. The words themselves weren’t necessarily provocative but the tone was, and so was the messenger. The familiar smirk was gone from his face, his dark eyes were wide and his expression was utterly shocked. The flush that had been on your neck was now mirrored on his tanned chest, crawling upward.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then managed a strangled sound. “What?” It came out as a rough croak. You let the smile widen, feeling a surge of power knowing exactly what he was thinking of. You’d knock him off balance. Good.
“Cat got your tongue?” you taunted, taking a deliberate step closer to the water’s edge. You tilted your head, eyes now wide and mocking. “Or did I finally find something that shuts you up?” Paul was still staring, his chest rising and falling faster than before. However, the shock was fading and was being replaced by a slow-burning, dark intensity. His own body betrayed him as he took a step closer on his side of the creek, shortening the distance between you two by just shy of 3 feet of water. His gaze dropped from your face, sweeping over you in your running clothes, a quick assessing look that felt like a physical touch, before snapping back to your eyes.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kitten.” His voice was laced with a rough warning. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
“Oh, I think I do,” You shot back, your confidence a shield. “I’m messing with the big bad wolf who gets all flustered when I mention getting wet. It’s cute, really. Almost makes you seem like a real boy.” You saw the way Paul’s jaw tightened quickly.
The air between you crackled, no longer with simple hatred or weary frustration, but with something hotter, more volatile, and personal. Paul didn’t move for a long second, then a slow dangerous smile spread across his face. It wasn’t his usual old smirk, it was darker. Shock left his body, it was burned away by the challenge your voice suggested. His dark eyes held yours, unwavering. “You think this is a game? You think you can poke the wolf and just walk away? The imprint isn’t a suggestion. It’s a fact. And the fact says your happiness is my problem. And right now, you being a brat makes you happy. So be a brat, see how far it gets you.”
He was turning your own teasing against you, framing it as a service he was providing. Tension was thick and radiating between you two, you could taste it. He hadn’t crossed the line, but he was right on the edge. The look in his eyes promised he wouldn’t stay there forever. For a heartbeat there was only the sound of the water and the pounding of your heart in your ears. Then, you moved.
Taking a deliberate step forward, off the bank and into the creek the icy water hit your ankles that it almost stole your breath. However, you didn’t flinch, you held Paul’s dark, burning gaze.
“Prove it,” you said, voice clear and challenging over the roar of the current.
His eyes widened a fraction, but his smile froze and slowly melted into something more intense, more focused. He looked from your face to the water swirling around your legs, then back up. The pull between you wasn’t a quiet hum anymore, it was a screaming siren, tugging at your chests, demanding, pleading for the distance to be closed.
“You’re going to catch a cold, kitten.” he said finally, his voice was softer than before, but still charged with that intense energy. “Is the little doggy afraid of water?” you taunted, turning to move away from him. It was a dismissive gesture, the final shot before you retreated to your side of the boundary.
You didn’t make it a full step.
His hand shot out, crossing the water’s surface in a blur. His fingers closed around your bare forearm, his grip firm and warm. It wasn’t rough but it was unbreakable, making your breath catch in your throat. When you met his eyes they were blazing into you. Shock gone, replaced by something raw and possessive.
“I can swim just fine,” he said in a low growl. “But you’re the one standing in my creek,” Paul said your name softly at the end, forcing you to go utterly still, the cold water forgotten. The heat of his grip was the only thing you could feel. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned closer to him, closing the small distance between your faces over the rushing water. Your voice dropped to a whisper that was almost lost in the creek’s roar, but of course he heard it.
“What,” you breathed, lips barely moving, “are you going to do about it?”
Paul’s fingers tightened on your arm, eyes dropping to your mouth, then back up. The raw possessiveness in his gaze was terrifying and exhilarating. With a sudden, rough motion, he yanked you forward.
You stumbled through the water and crashed against the bank on his side. He caught you, his other arm wrapping around your waist to steady you. You were on his side of the creek, held against his bare chest. Faces so close that you could feel his warm and quick breath against your cold skin.
“Anything,” he growled, the word low and vibrating a promise against your lips. “Anything I have to do.” As you spoke your breath mingled with his in the cold morning air, “like what, I don’t play very nice.” Your eyes held his, the challenge in the air thick.
His arm around your waist tightened pulling you even closer, the only bit of space left was found between your lips. You could feel every hard plane of him, the rapid, heavy beat of his heart thudding against your sternum.
“You think I do?” he mummered intimately. His free hand came up ,fingers brushing a free strand of hair from your cheek. His touch was startlingly gentle, at odds with the fierce possessiveness in his grip. “Nice is boring kitten, and you…you’re the furthest thing from boring I’ve ever seen.”
His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his dark eyes following the path of his touch. The imprint was a live wire, humming with a current that felt less like a chain and more like a lightning strike. You were in his arms, heat radiating from where your skin met his.
“So show me,” you breathed, voice barely audible. “Show me how not-nice you can be.”
“I’m not sure you can handle it, kitten.” Paul muttered the last part out, the challenge between you thick and sweet as honey. His thumb was still tracing your jaw, a slow deliberate calmness that sent shivers down your spine. And his eyes, they were holding yours. Waiting, daring you to make the next move. To prove you were just as tough as you acted.
You let your hands finally came up to rest lightly on his bare waist, just above the waistband of his shorts. You felt the muscles there jump under your touch. A slow, wicked smile spread across your own face, mirroring his.
You leaned in, until your lips were teasing the shell of his ear. “What if I decide to scream?” you whispered, voice a silken thread. “Right now? What if I tell Sam you dragged me over here and manhandled me?” You pulled back just enough to see his reaction. A new calculating glint entered his gaze. He knew you were bluffing, you wouldn’t scream. This was a game between you and him.
“You won’t,” he said, certainting ringing in his low voice. He pulled your hips flush against his, giving you a better feel of him than before. “You like this too much.”
A hand of yours shot up, fingers tangling in the dark, messy strands of his hair from the back of his head. You gave a sharp, deliberate tug, pulling his head down so his face was level with yours, your noses almost touching. His eyes widened a fraction in surprise, then narrowed with deep, intense focus.
“I like marking my territory, Paul.” Your voice was a low, possessive purr that was all feline confidence. “And I’m not sure if you can handle it, puppy.” You taunted, using his own words from earlier but with his demeaning nickname.
A low, rough sound escaped him, the hand on your waist slid lower, splaying possessively over the curve of your hip, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. The other came up to cup the back of your head, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind your ear.
“You have no idea,” his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, the heat of his breath intoxicating. He then shifted his grip, turning you and pinning you so that your back was against the rough bark of a pine tree. He crowded into your space, caging you in with all heat and hard muscle. “The imprint marked me the second I saw you. You’re in my blood. In my head. Everywhere….So go ahead. Mark me, see if you can make a dent.”
You didn’t hesitate. You closed the final inch of space and kissed him, claiming what you said you wanted.
It wasn’t soft or sweet, it was a clash. Lips, teeth and the sharp intake of breath. Your fingers were still tangled in his hair holding him close to you. His mouth was hot and demanding against yours, and you met every demand with one of your own. The hand Paul had on your hip tightened and pulled you closer to him than ever before. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your stomach.
The imprint, that hated bond, sang in your veins like a song bird finding its perfect melody, amplifying every sensation until you were dizzy with it.
You bit his lower lip, enough to make him growl into your mouth and slide his tongue past your lips. Deepening the kiss until you were breathless, and no longer caring for the roughness of the tree bark on your back.
The kiss broke, and you were both panting in the air catching your breaths staring in one another’s eyes, realizing the line that was crossed today. The air was thick with sensations of each other, Paul closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal that, when he opened his eyes, they went completely black for a second.
You weren’t done. The need to mark him, claim him in a way that he couldn’t ignore, was a fever in your blood. Your hands slid from the softness of his hair down to his back. Nails digging into the hot, smooth skin of his shoulders, dragging them down leaving four sharp trails in their wake.
He hissed, body jerking against yours, but it made him bury himself closer in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, Paul growled your name. Half warning, half plea.
You tilted your head, giving him better access. “Marked,” you whisper in a husky tone. Then you turned your head and sank your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder, just enough to leave the imprint of a love bite that made his hand on your hip tighten to the point of almost bruising.
Paul lifted his head from your neck, his eyes wild. “You want to play that game?” His words rough with desire and something feral. He didn’t even give you the chance to think of answering before his lips met yours again, fiercer than before. One hand came to cradle your jaw, holding you still for his kiss while the other slid from your hip to the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. The new position pressed him even more intimately against you, making you gasp into his mouth, fingers scrambling for steadiness on his back, finding the fresh scratches you’d made.
You didn’t pull back, you tugged him harder into you, Paul responded by hiking your other leg up around your waist, lifting you fully off the ground. His hands slid down, roughly grabbing you by your ass, holding you up, pressing you against the hard ridge of his arousal with a deliberate, grinding motion that made pleasured moans escape your mouth.
The scent of your own arousal was overwhelming now, a sweet, musky cloud that seemed to drive him wild. His mouth left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw to your neck. Paul didn’t bite, not yet, but his teeth scraped against your pulse point, a promise of what was to come.
“Paul,” you breathed, head falling back against the tree with fluttering eyes. This was no longer a protest, but a surrender to the sensation.
He lifted his head slightly from your neck, lips now pressed against your ear. His breathing was harsh, lips swollen and wet from your kisses. “Tell me to stop,” he growled, voice thick with need. “Say the word, and I’ll put you down, we’ll walk away. Right now.”
“Say I’m yours,” you whispered, words slipping out before you could stop them. The plea hung in the air between you, a raw, sensitive beg that held so much insecurity and hopefulness in one breath. Paul went still, the hand holding your jaw went soft. Not a lack of force, but a deliberate gentleness now. You could feel his lips almost twitch into a smile against your neck. He moved to look at you now, thumb brushing your bottom lip and your cheek.
“You’re mine,” he breathed out, “now make me yours.” His thumb a possessive caress on your skin. Your eyes held one another before you broke eye contact to focus on the strong column of his neck. You leaned in, biting hard on the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Claiming him in every way but words with your teeth and tongue. He groaned, then started moving his hips again. Grinding into you as you pulled away from his neck finally. He was quick to make your lips meet each other and this kiss was deeper and slower than the earlier ones.
As it deepened, you both began fighting for dominance, trying to make the other open their mouth to accept the other dancing tongue. The hand that was cradling your face came to the back of your head, a harsher grip in your hair, the other clinging onto every curve of your ass that he could find. “You smell like mine,” he said slowly between kisses. “Taste like mine.” His teeth grazed on the sensitive skin of your bottom lip. “Let me make you mine.”
“Make me yours,” you whispered against his lips, the words a breathy, dangerous invitation. “All the way.” Paul’s growl was pure and undiluted wolf. The last thread of his restraint snapped. He didn’t need to be told twice.
His lips met yours again, hurried and frantic kisses being shared. His hands were everywhere at once, pushing your top up, rough palms skimming over the bare skin of your stomach making you arch into him. Your own hands were going from their new position of being tangled in his hair to flimsy pushing down his shorts.
His head dipped down to kiss and suck on your breasts, teeth grazing over your exposed chest, but he hands were getting impatient at the fabric still coating your legs. Paul couldn’t try to shift your bottoms down anymore, instead the air was filled with the sound of them ripping. You gasped and looked up at his face, his usual cocky smirk in place.
“Sorry,” his grin was too proud that you knew not to take him seriously. A small growl tore from your throat as you reached to pull his lips back onto the bare skin of your chest, your once frantic hands tore down his shorts in a swift motion making Paul hiss at the sudden cold air touching him. But he moved just as quickly, he removed his head from your breast and angled you against him so his hardness was pressing against your now exposed core, a gentle tease that had a raging fire behind it.
“Please,” you moaned out, Paul’s eyes went wild at the plea, “I didn’t take you one for begging,” his voice slightly condescending. Your hands reached up tracing along the scratch marks from just a few minutes ago, reapplying the burn that came from them originally, you muttered his name like a warning, and he took it gladly.
It wasn’t gentle and slow, no, he finally entered you with a quick, deep thrust. It made you cry out loudly and throw your head back against the tree, his hands were surely leaving scars on your cheeks now with how hard he gripped them the moment he felt you. As Paul gave you a moment to adjust to him, you could hear his heavy breathing and deep grunts in your ear, a melody to the corresponding feel of his thickness finding its place in you.
When he began to move it was a surreal experience, every thrust, every tug of hair, it was like your minds were catching up to what your bodies already knew.
“Fuck-” Paul was beginning to shutter as he said your name like a prayer. He moved his hands from your cheeks, one came up besides your head on the bark steadying himself, the other wrapped around your waist to keep you as close as possible to him. You could feel the end coming, for both of you. Your walls were shrinking and legs began to coil with tension, his thrusts growing frantic desperately searching for its exit.
Your legs were still tightly wrapped around his waist encamping him as close as he could be, your back arched like a cat to take him deeper. Your hands that were leaving endless lines against his back moved, one gripping his hair, the other clinging onto his shoulder. “Look at me,” you huskily breathed out, shrieks of moans interrupting you here and there. Paul let out a groan and forced his head up to meet your eyes.
He pushed into you again, your mouth an o-shape, tears of pleasure brimming your eyes. Paul's eyes narrowed at the sight, the hand gripping the bark was surely in pain now but that didn’t matter. Only you in this moment mattered. Making you finish, and looking into your eyes as you did. Claiming you. Your moans and his grunts were the only thing heard now until you interrupted your melodies once again. “I’m going to-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence. It was pathetically good.
Paul couldn’t open his mouth to reply to you, instead his lips found yours once again, teeth clashing and messily he kissed you. The coil in your stomach came undone all over his thickness and he couldn’t hold it anymore. He bit down on your bottom lip, when he finally let go you could feel his warmth seeping inside of you and the whimpers that tore from his throat fanning your lips.
The damage was done, you claimed each other in your own ways, and now you were both catching your breath against the pine tree. Heads resting against each other, arms not giving a slight glimpse of letting the other go soon.
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